


I Thought You Knew?

by pushpintongue



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Background Poly, Breathplay, D/s overtones, Exhibitionism, Jack is a Little Shit, Kink, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Septiplier - Freeform, Threesome - F/M/M, YouTube, jack is kinda subby as all fuck but also pushy, jack is terrible at talking about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 13:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12277191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushpintongue/pseuds/pushpintongue
Summary: This is about Jack and Mark's relationship, and Jack exploiting Mark's raging exhibitionism kink to get what he wants. In a nice way! (It's also a poly-friendly fic with a dusting of kink, and both of those things are under-negotiated because the other thing about this fic is that it's about how terrible Jack is at talking about or being in relationships because he's a big dumb).But mostly, and most importantly, it's porn.





	I Thought You Knew?

**Author's Note:**

> A disclaimer: This story is VERY, VERY fictional. Also, and I feel like no one really needs told this, but just in case: do NOT show fanfiction to Jack or Mark (or anyone they know), particularly shippy fiction like this.

**Hotel Window**

It's not the first time this has happened.

Well, Jack corrects inside his own head, it's _definitely_ the first time it's gone this far. It's just not the first time they've gone from zero to sixty in less time than it takes to slam a hotel room door, only it's never been so clearly leading up to actual fucking before. 

At dinner, Mark had been firing flirting comments at him, half-joking, and Jack had fired back. It usually didn't escalate, but Jack had also had a few drinks. He couldn't help himself if he tried, and it was too much fun for him to want to, so instead of pulling up short at _kinda_ -gay he'd gone all out.

“Jesus, you two really should just fuck,” Felix repeated, drunker than Jack, enough he probably didn't quite register how the table kind of hushed at his loud commentary. Eyes turned in Jack and Mark's direction, where they sat opposite each other.

Normally, they'd all laugh now, and their flirting would die down. What happened later would happen later and Jack would likely get a nice handjob out of the deal, which he'd happily reciprocate, and they'd go sleep in their separate rooms. Mark had nice hands, nice arms, and a nice cock. Jack's face flushed deeply with alcohol, and with that thought. 

“Fuck off, Felix,” Mark laughed. “You're just jealous of our love!”

Everyone laughed. That was Jack's cue to drop it, but when Mark turned back to him, Jack found himself staring at Mark's mouth and wondering if Mark would let Jack kiss him. 

They hadn't kissed before. It didn't seem like that kind of deal. 

“Right, Jack?” Mark says, waving a hand in front of his face.

Jack laughs, dutifully, and takes a sip of his drink. He toes off his sneaker, under the table, and lifts his foot across the small space between them, his toes nudging between Mark's knees. Mark's eyes widen. 

Everyone's still kind of looking at them, but mostly the tension has broken and people are chatting full volume again.

“Obviously, Markimoo. Sorry Felix, you know I love you too, bro,” Jack says, not looking at Mark at all. Jack's toes make contact with the crotch of Mark's jeans and he presses down lightly, feeling the shape of his cock as Mark spreads his legs a little. 

Felix giggles drunkenly, and Jack smiles at Marzia as she rolls her eyes at him in solidarity. 

Jack looks back at Mark and bites down hard on his own lip, looking away immediately. Mark's face is an open book of lust, his mouth half-open and his eyes hot and intent on Jack. Jack's only seen that look right before Mark was about to come into Jack's hand. 

Jack doesn't talk to Mark much for the last part of their dinner, keeping up the pretense and not flirting, but he also doesn't remove his foot. He's half waiting for Mark to shove him away or pinch his ankle or something, but Mark just stays put, legs spread for Jack. He spends the night playing with Mark between making semi-coherent contributions to the conversation; multitasking and still being able to talk rubbish is absolutely a skill he's been learning on the job, and he makes full use of that. 

They finally finish dinner and make their way back to the hotel, Jack taps his foot the entire elevator ride, and they slam through the door into Jack’s suite harder than necessary. Mark's breathing is a little more strained than it should be, given they'd only kind-of jogged to the room. Jack has a half a second to look down at how hard Mark is before Mark's hands are reaching for him.

“You know literally anyone could have seen that?” Mark asks.

“You could have stopped me,” Jack says, and smiles. Mark only had to nudge his foot away, and he hadn't moved at all, except to press his hips up into the ball of Jack's foot. “Or is it that you like the idea that anyone could have noticed?” Jack asks.

Mark groans and pushes Jack hard, so hard Jack stumbles and automatically brings his hands up to grab at Mark's shirt. If someone walked in, it could look as much as if they were about to fight as anything else. The adrenaline of getting away with it has Jack keyed up as he can be. The more wound up Mark gets, the more it hits Jack too. He wants to kiss Mark, and he tugs at the fabric of Mark's shirt. He gets pushed back against the wall for his trouble. 

“Got a kink, Mark? You like the idea of someone watching me play with your dick in public?”

Mark kisses him, hard.

“What do you think?” Mark says.

Jack's head spins. He has no idea if the kiss was good or bad, but he needs more. He tugs on Mark's shirt again and drags Mark's face closer. He licks Mark's lips.

“I think there's a fuckin' great big window over there,” Jack says, and he watches Mark look over at it, his profile and his stubbled cheek turned to Jack for a moment. “I think I could jerk you off while the whole world watches and you'd like it.”

“Yeah,” Mark breathes against Jack's lips. Mark's hand finds Jack's and he tugs it towards his crotch, and Jack's fingers grasp the hot outline of his cock and squeeze. Mark is _hard_. Jack feels just how hard and his own cock throbs sympathetically. “I have a better idea though.”

“Yeah? Is it you touching me already? Because you're really fucking slow when you're hard, Mark. Don't be selfish.”

Mark's hand finds the button of Jack’s jeans and unbuttons and unzips him. He pushes his fingers into the flap of Jack's boxers and strokes the skin of his cock with his fingertips and Jack groans at how it's almost too much but also not enough. 

“I want to fuck you. Against the window,” Mark pants.

Jack's knees weaken briefly, almost losing the ability to keep him upright. He's shivering in time with the throb of his cock and the pressure of Mark's fingers. He squeezes Mark's cock a little too hard and Mark groans. 

Jack's never been fucked. Not by a real guy. He's fucked himself, and his ex-girlfriend had happily fingered him while she blew him, but it doesn't seem anything close to the same thing. His heart pounds.

“Uh,” Jack begins eloquently. 

Mark shoves Jack's jeans and boxers down and finally gets his hand around Jack's cock properly. Jack has to press both his hands flat against the wall behind him to stop his knees going out when Mark leans forward and kisses him at the same time. He can feel Mark's hard cock brushing against his skin when he leans in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack pants the second Mark moves his mouth away. The intensity of the kiss decides for him before he even realises what he's going to say: “Fuck me.”

They strip quickly, clothing haphazardly thrown across furniture and Mark going for the lube in Jack's bedside table. It's the first time they've been fully naked together and Jack lets his eyes roam and enjoy how not-shy Mark is.

When they're both stripped, Jack turns to the face the window and Mark appears behind him, his reflection visible over Jack's shoulder. 

“Jack, are you sure--”

“How many people you think can see in this window from here?” Jack says, and reaches blindly behind himself until he finds Mark's skin. He doesn't want to talk about it and make it into some big deal. He just wants Mark to fuck him. 

He shivers. Mark immediately steps closer, until Jack has to move his hand from between them. Mark's cock is hot against his ass. Jack pushes back into it, experimentally. Mark's hands grab his hips, hard, stilling him. 

Jack smiles and knows Mark sees it in their reflection. “You think they're going to watch you put it in me?”

Jack's face is suddenly almost pressed up against the glass and he pushes back hard against the pressure of Mark covering his back. Mark is half holding him up, which is good because Jack is shaking. They're almost exactly the same height, but Mark has some weight in muscle on him that Jack is more into than he'd like to admit. Mark presses him down, and Jack pushes his hips back, his ass into Mark's cock. 

“Are you trying to get me to let you go or hold you down?” Mark asks, his voice lower than usual.

“Trying to see how hard I can get you to fuck me,” Jack admits. His face is red. Mark's hand is spreading his ass open, his wet fingers pressing inside Jack's hole. Mark _is_ holding him down, too. Holding him against the window with his body. Jack knows that anyone could see this, even though it's not that likely anyone's watching from the far-off windows opposite them, but even if he knew for sure someone was, right now he couldn't care less. “Yeah Mark. Don't forget where we are. Lights on in here and dark outside. Easy for anyone to see.” Jack feels the stretch from Mark's fingers as Mark presses another inside him a little too fast and he sees his own breath fog the window as he pants. 

It hurts more than when he'd done himself, but it feels so fucking good he wants to scream. He bites his own lips.

“Shut up, Jack, if you want me to actually fuck you and not just come on your ass.”

“Come on then, fuck me. Fuck me. Let everyone see.”

Mark's cock is pressing into him, sliding away before he can get the head inside. They both groan like they've been shot. Mark lines himself up again and this time Jack thinks of doing this to himself and kind of pushes back, trying to relax. Mark's cock slips inside him.

“Think they saw that huh, Mark?”

Mark's forearm comes up around Jack's throat, not cutting off his air, but holding him totally still. Jack has to arch his back in a way he thinks he might regret tomorrow. Mark pushes in slow and inexorable. 

“Shut the fuck up, Jack,” Mark groans. “Please. I'm gonna come.”

Jack gets out, “That's the... fucking... point,” each word choked off as Mark's hips and cock jolt his whole body, shoving his throat against Mark's forearm. Mark is already thrusting erratically and Jack can practically feel it in his own balls how close Mark is. 

He has a desperate desire to see Mark come first, and half his air cut off or not, he's going to. 

“Don't want to shut me up Mark, or you'd hold tighter. Wanna hear me talk about how anyone could be watching your cock slide inside my ass right now. Anyone might see you fucking come inside me. Fuck _me_ ,” Jack chokes out, gasping, as Mark's arm does tighten fractionally and Mark's cock is pushed deep as he can get inside Jack.

Mark's hand finds Jack's cock and it's game over. 

Jack isn't actually sure who came first but he feels like a winner anyway. He feels amazing. 

His neck is going to bruise.

Jack turns around after Mark pulls out and tosses the condom... somewhere. He grasps at Mark's waist, pulling him in for a long kiss. Jack's ass is cold against the glass of the window, he feels weirdly empty inside. 

If they ever talked about it, they might argue over who came first.

They don't talk about it.

Mark goes back to his room to sleep.

\---

**Pax Toilets**

Nothing happens between conventions. 

They're friends, and that's what Jack wants. That's what he'd always wanted and he's still frequently giddy that he's got that with Mark at all, still the same guy inside that had kind of hero-worshipped Mark a bit.

He's happy, as he approaches the hotel. He's happy to see everyone, they're all his friends and he loves the chance to actually hang out in person. Of course he's happy to see Mark too. Mark is his friend, and that's why Jack feels so nervous and giddy right now.

“Jack!” Mark yells across the room, and Jack's face nearly splits with how hard it makes him smile to hear Mark's voice in person again.

Bob and Wade wave, and Mark is running towards him. Jack sees a chance and takes it, running in fake slow-motion towards him, they meet in the middle and hug, hard. Mark pats his back, and Jack buries his face in his neck. He almost forgotten how Mark smelled. He hears him breathing deeply into his hair and smiles. 

“I fuckin' missed you,” Jack mumbles, quietly, so only Mark hears it. 

“Me too,” Mark rumbles, low and for Jack's ears only, and Jack feels it from his ears down to his toes and everywhere in between.

“Jack!” Wade screams, doing an awful impression of Mark. Jack laughs and tugs out of Mark's grip and turns to hug Wade, smiling at him. He goes for Bob next, and Bob is quite possibly one of the best people to hug in the world, so he barely even resents having to let go of Mark for a second. 

He's missed them all. 

Jack picks up his room key, ready to drop his bags off. Mark opens his mouth, looking almost like he wants to say something, then closes it. He almost asks Mark to help with his bags, but feels stupid considering dragging Mark away from the group that's slowly assembling so they can go to a pre-PAX lunch. He settles for shoulder checking Mark on the way past, shoving against his chest hard and then apologizing sarcastically when Mark protests with a high-pitched noise. 

He drops his bags in his room alone, and when he comes back down, he's ambushed by Mark at the elevator doors. Mark's forearm goes around his neck and the adrenaline of being surprised kicks Jack's brain into a weird space. He has a flash of sense-memory that hits him low in the guts. 

He grins and jabs his elbow back at Mark, and Mark laughs and lets him go.

When he stands up straight, Mark is smiling at him, but it's a dare of a smile. Jack feels the challenge in his bones.

“That's for thinking you can push me around, you big mean,” Mark says.

“It's been three minutes, guys,” Bob says, “Let's play nice okay? At least until the convention has actually started?”

“Sorry, Bob,” Jack says, and punches Mark in the arm, then gestures to Bob.

“Sorry Bob,” Mark adds.

“Why am I friends with you guys again?” Wade asks. 

“Because no one else likes you, Wade,” Mark says.

“He's got you there,” Bob adds mildly. 

“Oh ha-ha, save it for recording, you assholes,” Wade faux-sulks. 

“Aw Wade, if it helps, I really missed you,” Jack laughs, “Being used as a human punching bag.”

They head to lunch. Mark falls back behind Wade and Bob, hovering at Jack's side and matching his steps. 

“Even?” Mark asks, and they look at each other sideways. 

Jack's heart beats hard. He still feels a challenge in Mark's eyes, in his crooked smile. Jack puts an arm around Mark's shoulder, and takes advantage of Mark's surprise to run his hand down Mark's back and grab his ass, hard. Jack dances away a few steps and walks backwards in front of Mark. 

“Oh, fuck you,” Mark says, low and dangerous. He narrows his eyes. 

Jack knows his cheeks are pink, and he doesn't care. He grins wildly at Mark. 

“Aren't you glad no one saw that?” Jack says.

\---

At lunch, it gets worse. 

Or, accurately, Jack makes it worse. He can't help himself. Mark keeps shifting in his seat, and Jack _knows_ it's because Jack grabbed his ass in public and Mark still has an absolute hair trigger for anything approaching exhibitionism.

Jack can't stop himself exploiting it. It's too much fun. 

Jack drops his fork under the table, and uses Mark's upper thigh as a hand rest as he leans under to grab it. 

Mark laughs at something Jack says, bending towards Jack and resting his forehead on Jack's shoulder. 

“Don't you fucking dare,” he whispers into Jack's ear. Jack breaks out in goosebumps. He fiddles with his phone, and types a text out to Mark while pretending to look at something else. 

_I fucking dare._

He watches Mark check the message, expression not changing, then put his phone away. He doesn't look at Jack.

Something makes the whole table laugh and Jack blinks, trying to pay attention. He totally missed whatever it was Wade did that made everyone lose their minds, and by the confused half-smile on Mark's face, so did he. Jack takes advantage of the uproarious cackling going on and reaches down, blatantly rubbing his hand across the front of Mark's jeans, digging his fingers in as he watches Mark's fingers go white-knuckled on his glass of water.

“You okay, Mark?” Jack asks, aiming for casual as possible, as if his fingers aren't currently searching over the shape of Mark's dick through his jeans. Mark's legs spread a little, giving Jack space... and that's when Jack takes his hand away.

“No uh, I feel... kind of sick, actually. I think I'm going to bail and rest before the con starts,” Mark says, putting one hand over his mouth as if he's about to throw up.

Half the table offers to walk Mark back to his room, but Mark waves them off. Jack frowns in exaggerated concern, rolling with it.

“You sure you don't want me to come with you, Mark?”

“Okay, fine. Jack's going to be my knight in shining armor, guys. Don't worry about me.”

They don't say anything as they walk back to the hotel. When they get to the lobby, Jack's about to make a joke of it, but Mark's hand lands on the nape of his neck and his fingers grip there just slightly harder than feels simply friendly.

“Bathroom,” Mark says.

“Wait, you're not actually sick are you--” Jack is half propelled by Mark towards the toilets inside the lobby.

The door slams behind them and Mark grabs his hand instead, pulling it to his clothed cock. Jack feels exactly how hard he is.

“You're an asshole, Jack.”

Jack laughs. 

“Am I in trouble, then?”

Mark narrows his eyes, and Jack rubs his cock through his jeans. 

“You think you're really clever, don't you?” Mark says.

“I know I'm clever, just like I know you've been hard since I touched your ass right in front of Bob and Wade,” Jack says.

Mark grabs at his shoulders and shoves him through the door of one of the open stalls, slamming it loudly and locking it behind them. Jack sways forwards, but he's stopped by Mark's hands on his shoulders. It's probably for the best anyway, they can do it like old times, no kissing, nothing like that, just jerking off and getting off hard. He grins at Mark.

“Get your cock out,” Jack says, making moves to do the same. They both shove their jeans and pants down to their thighs, and Jack watches the way Mark squeezes his own cock. Jack's hard, but Mark is clearly ready to come and clearly staving it off. “Look at that, you're so fucking easy for this... You think anyone's going to come in here after lunch? Hear us doing this?” 

Jack strokes himself, and Mark mirrors him, groaning. Jack has almost forgotten how insane the feedback loop is, the more he pushes Mark, the hotter he gets himself.

“You know what, you're going to come first,” Mark growls through clenched teeth. 

“Oh yeah? That my punishment?” 

Mark's eyes snap up and meet his. They sway closer together. Jack feels his face get hot and wonders when he started letting his mouth get so far ahead of his brain, then thinks: _that's always been the case._

For a few long moments, they just bend their heads forwards and breathe into each other's space, watching their hands move on their dicks and not touching each other anywhere but when their foreheads occasionally bump gently. It escalates fast, their arms brushing occasionally, then Jack makes a semi-deliberate push with his hips that slides the heads of their cocks together, the knuckles of their hands touching.

“Do you think,” Mark is panting, “we should talk about this?” 

He hisses the last part as they rub together again. 

“Fuck no,” Jack mumbles. He doesn't want to talk about this, and he especially doesn't want to talk about it before he comes. 

“You want to be in trouble for doing this to me,” Mark says, not quite making it a question. It's the tone that sets Jack's insides on fire. 

“Maybe,” Jack says. His knees go weak and he falls back against the wall, losing the occasional friction of his cock against Mark's, but gaining a beautiful view of Mark's rucked up t-shirt and his hand moving on his cock.

Mark stops moving his hand, and Jack looks up at his face, ready to protest. Mark takes a small step forward and presses his forearm against Jack's throat, pinning him to the stall wall he's leaning on. His head spins and his hand speeds up on his cock. He _is_ going to come first at this rate.

“You want me to stop?” Mark asks, knocking Jack's hand away from his own cock even as he says it.

“No!” Jack snaps, and shakes his head, hair brushing the wall behind him. 

“Shhh,” Mark hisses.

“Please,” Jack says, just as loud. 

Mark's eyes blaze and Jack knows he doesn't want him to be quiet, not really. They both know the chance of being overheard is throwing gasoline on the fire. 

“Say it again,” Mark says and starts to jerk Jack off in earnest. “Come on, Seán.” 

“Please,” Jack starts and finds he's about to lose it, fast as that. “Please, pleasepleaseplease--” he comes with Mark's arm pressing harder against his throat, Mark telling him to keep talking while cutting off his ability to talk at the same time. 

Mark lets him go and Jack has to press both his hands flat against the wall of the cubicle to stay upright. His knees are jelly, and he feels totally winded. 

“Jesus fucking Christ that was amazing,” Jack says. 

“Told you you'd come first,” Mark says, and wipes his come-covered fingers through the hair below Jack's bellybutton. 

“When I can care about things again, I'll tell you off for that,” Jack says back, feeling giddy. “You gonna finish there, or you want some help? We really shouldn't stay in here too long, someone is going to come in.” 

Jack's only half-teasing now, but it does the job. Mark leans back against the opposite wall facing him and gets a hand back on himself. 

“You want me to help, Mark? Or do you just want me to watch? I think you want me to just watch you. You do look good, Mark. You've got seriously nice hands you know. I fucking love your cock.” 

He's about to come, Jack can tell by the hardness of his cock, dripping at the tip and the twitching of his hips into his own hand. Jack likes this, enjoys how hard he can push Mark without even touching him. 

“So pretty, Mark. Love watching your arms move. You know how good you look? Careful, I think anyone could have heard that noise--” 

And that's it, Mark comes across his own fingers and onto the bathroom floor, which is kind of gross but also way too hot for Jack to give a fuck. 

“Jack, we should maybe--” 

Jack kisses him, hard. Mark gives back as good as he gets and they separate, panting.

“We need to go now,” Jack says. 

They've been in there too long, he justifies, and it's a shitty place to talk anyway.

“Wait, Seán,” Mark grabs his hand and turns him back around. They kiss again, more slowly. Jack's halfway to starting to get hard again by the time they stop. 

They don't talk about it. 

\---

**Dick Pics**

The thing with Mark, it only happens at cons, except:

It's a week after the con, and he's been DM-ing Mark semi-regularly and not admitting he misses him, except when his hand is around his dick. 

A message pops up from Mark, and it's an MMS, which is strange because Mark never text messages him at all, let alone sends picture messages. 

It's late evening for Mark, which means it's past Jack's bedtime. Jack opens the message, smiling, and almost drops his phone.

It's a picture of Mark's dick. Nothing else in the picture identifying it as him except one hand and his forearm, which is Jack doesn't need to look at to identify Mark anyway. Jack's reaction is embarrassingly immediate, his mouth feels wet, and his fingers twitch. He stares at the image, and his own cock throbs sympathetically. Mark is really hard. 

Jack immediately messages him back, typing out and deleting what he wants to say several times, before settling on:

 _So you want me to post this to Instagram, Tumblr or Twitter first? :P_

_Hey no one knows that's me for sure, go ahead, if you want that on your social media :P_

_So... how are you?_

_Hard._

“Fuck,” Jack says out loud, to nothing.

_Me too, now._

The next message is another MMS, and Jack can tell exactly how nicely showing off is getting to Mark, with absolutely no surprise. It gets to him too; he can see pre-come beading at the tip of Mark's cock, which is red and slick-looking already. 

_Send me a video._

_Send me some motivation._

_The idea I'm going to watch you and get off on it isn't enough? The idea I could take these and spam them across the internet for people to look at any time I want now?_

_I'm so fucking hard, Jack._

_Video._

_If I was there I'd shove you against a wall right about now. Show me something good, Jack. I'm thinking about fucking you._

_Like you want to see my hairy arse, Mark._

_I like your hairy arse, you ass._

Jack hadn't ever really thought he'd be the type of person who'd receive dick pics, but he'd thought even less that he'd be the kind of person to send them.

He lifts his shirt up with one hand and shoves his pants down with the other. He takes a picture from above, all from the neck down, his hand covering the front of his boxers but not the wet spot his cock is leaking onto the grey fabric. He sends it before he can think too deeply.

The video he gets back is only a minute long, but that's all it takes Mark to come, copiously, all over his hand, while groaning Jack's name.

Jack sends him back a picture of the come on his own belly, when he's done. 

_Can I call you? I want to talk._

Jack doesn't reply for a good ten minutes. He's cooling down, he justifies. He's blotchy and hot and just wants to relax after coming that hard. 

He just kind of... forgets to reply. Possibly, he thinks, because he really doesn't want to talk about it. Talking about it would define it and he doesn't have a clue what _it_ is, he just wants to be Mark's friend and to keep fucking him and for neither of those things to fuck the other thing up.

\---

**Skype**

They egg each other on and flirt shamelessly, which is something they've always done, but it's worse now. Or maybe better, Jack considers, given how ridiculous this episode of PUBG has been. Mark doesn't play the game habitually, and Jack's pretty laid back about it, so they're following Bob's lead as usual and making totally asses of themselves as they go. Wade had gotten a lot of it towards the beginning of the recording, but they've left him alone a bit more since he miraculously managed to garner the most kills on this go around. 

Which leaves them focussed on each other, and that means Jack's feeling a little hyper and reckless, which is how he always seems to feel around Mark now.

“You should cosplay your dude, Mark,” Jack suggests.

“I don't have his hair game,” Mark laughs back. “I mean, my hair is amazing, but I can't pull off the sheer powerful volume he's got going.”

“You own the rest of the outfit,” Jack replies. He's basically angling to get Mark shirtless and tease him about being vain, which is always fun.

“That's true, because the rest of his outfit is literally just underwear,” Mark laughs.

“Yeah, so go for it,” Jack says, like a dare. 

It's _also_ fun because when Jack hears Mark's breathing hitch a little, and the tiny pause where he's quiet for a fraction too long, he knows exactly what it means. It's fun because Jack knows something no one else knows about Mark, not really.

“I bet you think I won't do it,” Mark says back, laughing almost-normally.

Wade gives an exaggerated groan. “Jack, don't encourage him!” He says with faux-despair. “Mark we know you'll take your shirt off for like no reason man.”

“But what about my pants!?” Mark yells.

“Yeah! Let Mark live his best life, Wade! I'm not forcing him to do anything,” Jack adds.

“Yeah, Wade,” Bob adds, “why don't you want Mark to be happy?”

“Yeah Wade, why don't you want me to be happy!? You don't want to see my nips?” Mark half-shouts, and his audio gets lower for a moment.

Jack knows he's stripping and can't help giggling a bit, while very deliberately keeping both his hands on his keyboard.

“I'M DOING IT,” Mark yells, still backed away from the mic, thankfully. “I'M BECOMING ONE WITH PUBG. I AM THE TRUE UNKNOWN PLAYER.”

“Did you just take off your shirt, or your pants too?” Bob asks, laughing. 

Wade is cackling too, and Jack grins. 

“I bet you did both, Mark,” Jack adds, low and less joking than he means.

“Hell yeah I did,” Mark says. “I am playing this game in like God intended, in nothing but my underpants.”

“That's great, buddy,” Bob says, sounding parental and supportive, and wastes a guy across the field from them. Jack normally would have spotted him before Bob, but he's distracted.

“You disgust me,” Wade says.

“You should try it, Wade,” Mark says.

“Hey Mark,” Jack asks, “enjoying yourself there?”

“Shut up, Jack,” Mark says. “Pay attention to the game, we need our spotter. What do your elf eyes see, Legolas?”

They all laugh, and Jack knows Mark is deflecting him both for the joke and because he knows that Jack knows it's only partially a joke. He's definitely enjoying himself, and if he thinks Jack will let him off the hook that easily, well. 

\---

Mark stays on the chat after Bob and Wade leave, and Jack asks him if he wants to fire up Skype. 

“Enjoy yourself?” Jack asks, as soon as the call connects. Jack’s knee is bouncing with barely-contained energy. 

Mark is still shirtless and Jack blatantly appreciates that, dragging his gaze over his skin. Mark flexes subtly, then shrugs, and his mouth tilts up at one corner. “Yeah, well, what do _you_ think?” Mark asks.

“I don't know,” Jack says, and leans back in his chair a bit, letting his hands roam out of frame onto his own stomach. “It's kind of hard to tell from here.”

They both go quiet for a second.

“Stand up,” Jack says, at the same time as Mark says: “Take off your shirt.”

“You first,” Mark adds. “You owe me for doing that.”

“I didn't do anything, I'm a good boy! I just made a perfectly innocent suggestion--”

Mark leans into his mic: “Take your fucking shirt off, Jack.”

Jack takes off his fucking shirt.

\---

Afterwards, Jack is watches through heavy eyelids as Mark swipes lazily through the come on his belly. Mark is still breathing deep in his chest, but has gone boneless in his chair, sprawled like Jack knows he's sprawled out as well. Despite distance, this only ever gets _better_ with Mark. He has no idea how he's going to wait more than thirty seconds before jumping him when they're next together on the same continent. 

“That's a big ol' mess you made. When was the last time you got laid?” Jack asks lazily.

“Ha! You're not exactly dry firing either, buddy,” Mark grins and Jack leans down to grab his shirt and wipe off his own belly and hand. “Anyway I uh, last week.”

“Last week?” Jack asks. He's feeling lazy and braindead in the best way. 

“Laid. I got laid last week. I've kind of been seeing this girl, which I've been trying to... find a way to--”

“Oh,” Jack says, loudly, cutting Mark off. His face flushes red. He doesn't want to hear this.

“Jack. Seán.”

“Yeah, I've got another video to record tonight, so I better get going.”

“Okay then. You had fun?” Mark asks. Jack can't look at him right now, but he hears the softness of Mark's voice, like he's deliberately being gentle with Jack. It's almost like he's talking to a kid. 

“What does it look like?” Jack gestures to himself and forces a laugh. He's still a mess, despite wiping up. He considers pulling his boxers back up, but it's too late at this point. 

He manages to say 'bye' before they disconnect. 

\---

He starts seeing Signe the next week. She's perfect in a way he can't express and he knows almost instantly he's going to fall in love with her, and fall hard. She makes him smile more than anything in the world, except maybe Mark being a big dumb. 

The thing with Mark doesn't stop, and at a certain point two things come to a head: Jack realises he's talked to Signe about the thing with Mark more than he's ever talked to Mark about it, and PAX West is fast approaching. 

“He'd like it, I know he'd like it, and I _know_ you'd like it,” Jack says.

“Seán, have you _talked_ to him about this?” Signe asks again. She shoves his head off her shoulder, keeping her small hand wrapped in the longest part of his hair and making him look at her.

“Don't tell me shit we say during sex doesn't count,” Jack says, tugging gently against her grip more for the sensation of being held than to get away.

“That wasn't what I asked you!” She laughs.

“'Oh, Seán, tell me how it felt when he fucked you--'” Jack stops talking when she tugs sharply at his hair.

“Stop wriggling!” Signe says, laughing as he tries half-heartedly to get away. “Promise me you'll talk to him.”

“You want it, right?”

“Yes, baby. I want it, but you need to talk to him first.”

\---

**Threesome**

Jack doesn't talk to Mark, but honestly, he knows what works at this point and once he gets Mark past a certain point, no one will be asking questions.

He's not wrong, either.

Amy leaves early, her arm linked with Kathryn's, giggling at each other sweetly, and Jack watches Mark watch them go. Mark's face is soft and fond. Jack finds despite having a weird feeling that he wouldn't like Amy, he really had found it impossible not to. She's goofy like Mark, but quieter and sweeter. 

Mark turns back to him and their eyes meet. It's the same look he had as he watched Amy leave. Jack smiles back.

Signe is sitting on his lap on the comfortable couch in the dusky light of the hotel bar, and Jack feels his hand tugged away from where it's been resting on her waist. She slides off his lap and plonks down next to him lightly. Her cheeks are blushing from the alcohol, a shade that matches her red lips.

“Mark looks lonely,” Signe says, and Jack looks away from her to Mark, who's already raising his hands in protest.

“No, no no, I'm fine, don't let me get in the way of you two being cute as hell,” Mark begins, waving his his hands at them. 

Jack stands up.

“Seán, you should keep him company,” Signe prompts, and Jack nods his head in agreement, a thrill shooting down his spine as Mark looks up at him quizzically. As Jack steps forward, Mark's mouth drops open a little. 

“Jack--” Mark's eyes are wide, and Jack bats his hands away before he settles himself down on Mark's lap. 

There's a cheer from a few feet away where Tyler and Ethan, along with Bob and Mandy, all raise their glasses at them and laugh. Jack knows they're seeing Jack being a goof, and nothing else, especially with Signe sitting across from them, giggling at them.

Jack leans his back against Mark's chest, his feet touching the floor, his arm up behind Mark's head. He speaks quietly, but doesn't have to whisper in the ambient noise the bar is providing.

“Signe knows exactly what's happening right now, Mark. Everyone else might be looking, and they might guess, but she knows exactly what this is doing to you. You feel the eyes on us? I can feel your cock getting hard,” Jack rubs down into Mark's lap, feeling exactly that. Mark's hands find his hips and grip painfully hard, stopping Jack moving altogether, and Jack needs to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making a desperate sound. Signe is watching them, and that's hotter than Jack expected, even knowing how quickly he gets caught in the feedback loop winding Mark up.

“Come and rescue me from your boyfriend, Signe,” Mark says. 

He isn't letting Jack move an inch, a centimeter. 

Signe stands up and walks over to stand in front of them, reaching a hand out and smiling at Jack. Jack takes her hand in his.

“Do you want to be rescued?” Signe asks.

Mark says nothing, and Jack feels Mark's forehead bump against the middle of his spine, his breath hot through Jack's shirt. Jack shivers. 

“He doesn't want to be rescued,” Jack says.

“Shhh, Jack,” Signe says, and tugs at his hands. Mark lets him go gradually, his fingers sliding over Jack's hips. “Let me talk to Mark.” 

Jack bounces up to stand next to her, and can't contain the urge to tap his foot. He needs this to happen now, because he's halfway to hard and no one's even come near his cock yet.

“Do you want to come back to our room?” Signe asks, without preamble, and Jack wonders why he'd found something so simple impossible. She adds, fondly, “Don't let Jack bully you.”

“Hey! Mark is _more_ than capable of fending me off when he wants to, the bruises on my neck last--” 

Mark chokes on air, coughing.

“Yeah, I can deal with Jack just fine,” he says. 

He and Signe make eye-contact and Jack's eyes flick between them, rapid and impatient. “If that's... okay with you?” Mark asks.

Signe reaches out her hand and Mark takes it in his, and for a second they stand like that and Jack slowly loses his fucking mind. They're barely touching, just holding hands loosely, and he feels like he's on fire. 

“Please,” Jack says, and both of them look at him, and he can't remember what he was going to say.

“Up or down?” Mark asks Signe.

“Up,” she replies and tugs at his hand until he stands in front of her, a few inches taller, just like Jack is, but much broader than her slight shoulders. Her hand is tiny in his. “If I came down there we'd really have people watching, I think.”

Mark lets go of her hand and leans up close to her ear, and says something Jack can't hear.

Signe's cheeks blaze. They both turn and look at Jack. 

“Upstairs,” she says, and turns abruptly.

They all march to the elevator banks, Jack hoping Mark is walking as awkwardly as he is because of _reasons_ , but can't look back and check because he won't be able to stop himself kissing him. He doesn't reach for Signe's hand either, because touching her might be the end of him right now.

Inside the elevator, they're alone. 

Jack's hands twitch at his sides and he doesn't know what to do with himself. 

“Kiss him,” Signe says, and Jack wants to kiss _her_ for suggesting it. 

Jack throws himself at Mark, causing them both to stumble slightly into the mirrored wall of the elevator. His tongue is in Mark's mouth; Mark's hands find his ass and grip him there. Signe sighs beautifully. 

“Stop now,” Signe says, and Jack shudders and pulls away from Mark instantly. 

“He always does what you say? You'll have to teach me that.”

“Not always,” Signe smiles. “The fun part is making him.” 

Mark’s mouth opens and then snaps closed. He nods.

“I like her,” Mark fake-whispers. 

“Someone could get in at the next floor,” Signe adds. 

Jack grins. She's already playing Mark as easily as he does, or as easily as she plays Jack. 

Mark groans, and Jack takes a step towards Signe, his hand finding hers immediately. She doesn't rise up to kiss him, but instead grabs his hair and bends his head down to meet her lips. 

“You're so smart, baby,” Jack whispers against her mouth. 

When Jack looks over at Mark, Mark is staring at them intently, hands balled in loose fists at his side.

The elevator dings and the doors open. 

Mark's hands find the collar of Jack's shirt the second Jack throws the keys down on the bedside table. Jack finds himself tugged into another kiss with Mark immediately, back pressed against the wall. Mark shifts his hands and grasps at the backs of Jack's thighs, his ass, and lifts him up. Jack thumps his head against the wall, and feels Mark pressing against him, hard between his thighs.

“Bet you could hold Signe up like this for a long time,” Jack suggests, his mind overloading with the mental image of Signe pulling Mark's hair and scoring his back with her nails as he holds her slight frame up and fucks her. 

Mark slowly lowers him to the ground, and steps back.

“What--” Jack starts, dazed, and finds Signe and Mark looking at each other, then at him.

“Jack, we should talk about--” Mark starts.

“Seán, you promised me you asked him already!” Signe says.

Jack feels like dirt, and bites his lip, tugging his shirt down where it's rucked up exposing his stomach. He wants to stand up straight but his knees are jelly.

“I... mean. It's working?” Jack suggests.

Mark groans, and it's not the type of groan Jack wants to hear right now.

“I'm sorry,” Signe says to Mark, and Jack feels his heart constrict. 

“No, it's not your fault. We both know him, right?” 

“Hey! I'm right here,” Jack says.

“So talk to him,” Signe says, simply. 

Jack opens his mouth, and then closes it. 

“I don't understand what it is about this that you can't talk about, but I'm about thirty seconds from leaving you hanging and I don't want to speak for Signe, but I feel like she'll back me up on this. What is it that's causing you a problem here? If it's about Amy, she knows and she's totally fine with it, she's currently in our room with Kathryn and they're probably doing something a lot more fun than we are right now. We're not doing anything wrong. I just want to know _what_ you think we're doing before we do this. It's a pretty big deal, Seán,” Mark says. 

He seems winded at the end, which is probably the same dizzying combination of reluctant emotion and being hard enough to pound nails that Jack is experiencing right now. 

“We're... friends,” Jack says.

“Yeah, we're friends! What does that have to do with anything? Jack you have to talk to me.”

“Mark, we're friends and... we aren't ever going to be anything more. We're two guys that have fun together, but I just. Can't.”

Mark laughs so hard Jack actually goes through angry all the way to concerned.

“Seán!” Signe says, and she's hiding her smile behind her hand, always so kind to him even when he doesn't deserve it. 

“What?” Jack asks. “I know it's fucked up, but this whole thing is fucked up.”

“I can't--” Mark says, and holds up his own hand as if Jack is the one stopping him getting his shit together. 

“I don't want to speak for Mark,” Signe says, mirroring Mark's earlier words, “but I think I know why he's laughing. Seán, you and Mark are... already in a relationship? I think, anyway,” she adds, gently. “You have always talked about him to me like you two were together. I thought you knew?”

“That's exactly what I was going to say,” Mark adds. “Seán, oh my god. I thought I was always the dumbass at things like this!”

“Uh,” Jack starts. He props himself up on his elbows and glances between Mark and Signe, and finds them looking at each other and smiling. “Wait--” is all he gets out before Mark is shoving him backwards, and Jack's knees are catching on the edge of the bed, going out from under him easily. 

“I know I said I wanted to talk,” Mark starts, “but actually, I think it'd be better if you shut up.”

“Definitely,” Signe adds, and puts a hand on Mark's chest, pressing herself cozily against his side. They're both looking down at him. “I think he should be punished for being such a dumb boy.”

Jack snaps his gaping mouth closed.

“Definitely,” Mark says.

“You both know I like that, right?” Jack swallows, and feels pinned like a bug by their twinned gaze. 

“Jack, be quiet and _watch_ ,” Signe says, and Jack does exactly that, observing Mark pinned by the same look she gave him, and by the word _watch_.

She rises up on the balls of her feet and kisses Mark.

Jack has never felt more stupid, more turned on and more in love with them both in his life.

 _Oh,_ he thinks abruptly. “I'm a fucking idiot.”

Mark breaks the kiss and they both look at him again.

“Yeah, you are.”

“So… how are you going to punish me for it?” Jack asks and waits for them to wipe the cheeky smile of his face.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my boyfriend for beta-reading this even though he hated it, what a trooper. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated a whole lot. Thanks for reading!


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